


Keeping it Secret

by Jessica_Bones_Winchester



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Hidden Feelings, Romance, partners
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-29
Updated: 2017-09-21
Packaged: 2018-12-08 08:01:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11642340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jessica_Bones_Winchester/pseuds/Jessica_Bones_Winchester
Summary: DI Lestrade's partner has kept her attraction to him a secret for years, but what would it take to make her admit her feelings?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've tried to keep the characters from sounding American, but since I am American it may have crept in. I've attempted to use what I hope is modern British slang without overkill. I apologize if I failed, and would love feedback on it either way.

Valerie glanced at Lestrade sitting behind his desk as she walked back to hers. She sat with a sigh, grateful that her desk faced away from his office. Being able to see him all day would be a distraction.

She still saw him in her mind; his head down as he read a report, the tip of his pen between his teeth, and his free hand rubbing the back of his neck.

"Parker."

She jumped, so lost in thought that the sound of his door opening never registered.

"Yes, sir?"

"I need you in here."

"Be right there."

She grabbed a pen and pad and closed his office door before sitting in the chair in front of his desk. He slid a folder to her.

"This cold case was just dropped in my lap, and it's bizarre at best."

"Initial thoughts?"

"That I should call Sherlock."

"That shouldn't be your gut reaction. You have solved cases without his help. Quite a lot of them."

"It's not my gut reaction. I've been through ten gut reactions, and they all make no sense in light of the facts."

"Well, fill me in on what doesn't make sense."

Lestrade leaned back in his chair, and Valerie took notes as he went through his thoughts. She stared at her paper, rolling her pen between her fingers.

"Take the folder back to your desk and look it over for yourself. Maybe you'll see something I'm missing."

"Yes, sir."

She stood and Lestrade opened another folder.

"It's late," she said. "Shouldn't you be getting home to the missus?"

He ran his hand over his face and squeezed the bridge of his nose.

"Wouldn't do any good since she's likely not there. Been spending a lot of late nights out with the girls, so she says."

"You don't believe her?"

He hesitated. "I do. Downside of being a DI, I suppose. Highly suspicious."

"All due respect, sir... I've never known you to be highly suspicious. I've always thought you were a little too trusting for a man in your position."

He leaned back and ran a hand through his hair.

"You saying I'm right?"

"I'm saying you should trust your gut more. Go home, sir."

"I think I will."

She was back at her desk when Lestrade strode past, shrugging into his coat. She hoped what he found, or didn't find, waiting for him at home didn't hurt him. He had been sullen, and now she knew why; he was questioning his marriage.

She stayed another two hours going over the file and her notes before her yawning became a distraction. She waited for the lift, bouncing a bit on her toes to wake herself up.

The doors opened, and Lestrade leaned against the back wall, head down, shoulders slumped. He made no move to get off, so she pushed the button for the garage and leaned back next to him.

"I should have stayed here," he said.

"I'm sorry."

"Not your fault."

Valerie watch the digital numbers descend.

"Fancy a drink?" she asked.

"Nah, I'm sure you're tired. Nothing bad waiting for you at home."

"Nothing at all waiting for me at home. Come on. Let's get a drink."

"All right."

They found a table at a pub and Valerie went to the counter to order drinks. She came back with six beers and slid three bottles in front of Lestrade.

"This should keep us for a minute or two," she said."

Lestrade guzzled half the first bottle, then held his face in his hands, elbows on the table.

Valerie let him be. She leaned back in her chair and sipped her beer. Nothing she could say would help. She wasn't even sure exactly what he found at home. She could assume, but what was the point? She waited for him to tell her, if he wanted to.

Into his second beer, Lestrade leaned back and sighed.

"She's shagging another guy."

Valerie leaned forward, but resisted the urge to reach out.

"I'm so sorry."

"Didn't quite catch them in the act, but I may as well have. And she had the nerve to blame me! My job keeps me too busy. Too many late nights. Too much time apart. Apparently that makes it ok."

"How long has she-"

"She swears she never did. That this was the first time, and I saw as far as it got."

"Maybe she's telling the truth."

"Doesn't change the fact that if I hadn't gone home she'd be-"

He slammed his fist on the table then lowered his head, holding it in both hands.

"Maybe not. Maybe she would have stopped it herself."

"You really believe that?"

"I don't know. I don't know her... Not well. You two should talk. Maybe you can work it out."

"Maybe."

He drained the rest of his beer and opened the third.

"Tomorrow. I don't think I can talk to her tonight."

"Where will you stay?"

"I've slept in my office before for a late night. That's where I was going when you got on the lift."

Valerie bit her bottom lip.

"You're welcome to spend the night on my couch."

"Thanks, but I wouldn't want it getting back to my wife that I spent the night in another woman's flat."

She nodded. "Understood. I didn't even think about that."

"And you think I'm too trusting?"

Valerie smiled. "I hope you know I wasn't implying your wife was cheating on you when I said that. I had no idea. I only meant-"

"Forget it. I know what you meant."

"I really am sorry."

He ran a hand over his face. "Did you get to look over that folder?"

She glanced at him for just a moment, wondering if distracting himself with work was such a good idea.

"I did."

"And?"

"And I think you're right. It doesn't make sense."

"So, I'm calling Sherlock after all."

"No. We will figure this out. You will figure it out."

"You were probably right the first time. We will. Don't know what I'd do without you, Parker."

"Thank you, sir. How did we end up with a cold case, anyway?"

"The murder we had last week."

"The subway carriage?"

"Right. Someone connected the body placement to the old murders. If it's the same killer, that makes it an active homicide case."

"So, we get it."

Lestrade nodded.

"Then we'd better get some rest," she said. "I get the feeling we've got some long days ahead of us."

"Looks like."

Outside, Lestrade pulled out a pack of cigarettes and put one between his lips. Valerie grabbed it and threw it to the ground as he fumbled for his lighter.

"Oi! Those aren't cheap."

"I knew I smelt cigarettes the other day. You lied to me."

"Because I knew this is how you'd react."

"You were doing so well. You went months without one."

"Yeah, well, I've been a bit stressed lately."

Her voice softened. "I understand that. I do. But this is your health we're talking about. If you have to chase a bad guy, you want the lung capacity to overtake him, right?"

Lestrade stared at the pack in his hand.

"Right," he said. "Take these."

He put the pack in Valerie's hand and closed her fingers around it. She stared at his hands wrapped around hers.

"You know I'm just looking out for you?"

"I know."

"Any more back at the office?"

He shook his head and let go of her fist. "That was the first pack I bought since I quit."

Valerie peeked inside. Half the pack was gone.

"I guess this could be worse. Let's get you back to the office."

"Go home, Parker. You've been barely awake all night. Don't think I didn't notice."

She nodded. "Yes, sir. See you in the morning."


	2. Chapter 2

Valerie spent much of her free time over the next few months in Lestrade's office going over the case.

She tapped her pen against her cheek as she read through the file for the hundredth time, then stared at the photo of the body.

"Sir..."

"Yeah?"

"This first murder, this was four years ago."

"Right."

"If this new murder is the same killer, and he went through the trouble of placing the body the same way..."

Lestrade looked up from his file and stared at Valerie.

"Bloody hell," he whispered. "There are more."

"Serial killers don't usually wait four years."

Lestrade picked up his phone and dialed.

"I need unsolved murder cases from the last four years, single victim, mysterious circumstances."

He hung up and wiped a hand over his face.

"Our long days just got longer," he said.

"But if we can catch this guy..."

"It's worth it."

By December, Lestrade was moody on a good day. He tried to hide it, but Valerie knew him too well. The unsolved murders, on top of a failing marriage that had become a separation, was wearing him down.

The Yard's Christmas party was basic, but liquor was freely flowing and Lestrade showed no temperance that night. Valerie found him in a corner, barely able to stand as he leaned into the wall.

"Time to get you home, sir."

"It's a party, Parker. Don't be such a spoilsport."

"You're snockered."

"I'm fine."

"Oh, really?" Valerie took two steps back. "Come here."

"I like where I am."

"Walk to me, now."

Lestrade groaned, but pushed himself off the wall and stumbled forward. He caught his balance, only to lean left, then stumble straight into Valerie's arms.

"Right... you're fine. You could be arrested for this type of intoxication."

He straightened and looked down at her. "Are you arresting me, Parker?"

"Not if you come willingly, sir."

"And where am I coming?"

"I'm taking you home."

"To your place?"

"To yours, sir."

"Well, that's no fun."

At Lestrade's flat, she got him to his couch and pulled off his shoes. He fought against his coat as he tried to shake it off, until Valerie had to help him. She pulled off his suit jacket, then undid the top two buttons of his shirt to try to make him comfortable. Lestrade put a hand to the back of her head and pulled her down into a kiss. Valerie's eyes widened, and she whimpered, but he caressed her face and she closed her eyes.

"You're gorgeous," he whispered against her lips.

That was enough to bring her to her senses. She pulled away and turned her back to him. With her fingers pressed against her lips, she swallowed hard, then turned around. He was standing there, swaying.

"You're going to hurt yourself. Sit down."

"Was it awful?"

"What?"

"Me kissing you."

She shoved him and he fell back onto the couch.

"Let's just forget about it, all right?"

Lestrade laughed. "I probably will."

"Small blessings."

"Was it awful?"

"Sir-"

"It must be awful, or my wife wouldn't have been looking elsewhere, right?"

Valerie looked down at him as he lay his head back. She sat next to him.

"It wasn't awful."

He turned his head to look at her, and she met his eyes.

"Not even a little awful," she said.

He leaned toward her, but she put a hand to his chest.

"That doesn't mean it's a good idea."

He tried to stand, but fell back onto the couch.

"Bloody floor needs to stop moving."

"All right, that's it. I don't think I should leave you alone. Let's get you into bed, and I'll sleep on the couch."

"Bed's a double, love."

He winked at her and she rolled her eyes.

"I know that's the alcohol talking and not the man I respect. So, I'm going to forget you just said that to me."

He was staring at her, but his eyes were moving too much.

"Sir-"

"Could you please keep still?"

"I'm not moving."

"Then I may be sick."

She got him to the toilet just in time. She sat on the edge of the tub until he leaned back against the sink cabinet, sweat dripping down his face.

"That should help," she said.

She wet a washcloth with cold water and ran it over his face. She froze when he caught her wrist.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome."

The next morning Valerie woke to the sound of the shower. She folded the blanket she used, and she was ready to go by the time he was done.

"How're you feeling?"

"My head is pounding."

"Not a surprise."

He stared at her for a moment.

"I feel like there's something I should apologise for."

"Well, I did have to sleep on a very uncomfortable couch last night thanks to your little bender."

"No... something else."

"What else would there be?"

He rubbed his temples. "I don't know."

"You had a pretty bad time last night, sir. Maybe you should take the day off."

"I think I will."

"Good."

"You know, you likely saw me at my worst last night."

"I wouldn't say-"

"Seeing as I can't remember most of it, it's not a stretch. I am sorry for that... for ruining your night."

She shrugged. "The party was boring, anyway."

He smiled at her. "Considering last night, maybe you could call me Greg when we're off duty?"

"Ah! The first name. Like friends."

"Right... like friends."

She nodded. "I have to get to work. Will you be all right?"

"I'll be fine. Go."

That afternoon, Lestrade walked up to her desk.

"I thought you were taking the day off?"

"I need to talk to you. Come in my office?"

"Sure."

He hung his jacket on the coat stand as she closed the door and sat in the chair in front of his desk. He paced a little, then leaned back against his desk in front of her.

"I remembered something from last night, and I was right about needing to apologise."

"Sir, I don't-"

"What I said to you about my bed, after you offered to sleep on the couch... that was _so_ far over the line... I'm sorry."

"I know it was the alcohol."

"Sod the alcohol, it's no excuse. The fact that you stayed at all after that- Thank you."

"You're welcome. And I appreciate the apology, but you should be resting."

"No, I'm feeling better. And I'll feel wonderful after we catch this bastard."

Valerie stood. "I'll get the files."

"Listen, Parker... we're good, right?"

"We're good, Greg."

He smiled at her as she left his office.

The next couple of weeks were an improvement. Lestrade seemed happier as he and his wife worked out their problems. He invited Valerie to a small Christmas Eve get-together at Sherlock's flat. His wife would be busy packing for a trip.

The party turned out to be like most moments with Sherlock. His insults and deductions left everyone a little down and moody. Especially Lestrade. Sherlock blatantly told him his wife was having an affair, just as Lestrade was explaining that they were back together. Valerie watched his expression change from annoyance to grief. She wanted to talk to him, but this wasn't the place. Unlike Sherlock, she had tact.

At the end of the night, she followed him down the stairs and out onto the street.

"Greg, hang on."

"What is it?"

"I want to talk to you."

"I have to get home."

"I know you do, but don't let Sherlock ruin your reconciliation with your wife."

"He's right!"

"What?"

"He's bloody right! Of course he is! I thought about it, and I had to be blind not to see it."

"Greg-"

"Look, I get that you want to help, but I can't do this now."

"All right."

She watched him leave, then patted her coat and realised she left her phone upstairs. John helped her look around, but when John left the room, Sherlock approached her.

"He's married."

"Beg your pardon?"

"Despite the fact that his wife is a lying cheat, he is still married. You don't seem the type to have an affair with a married man, so I thought you could use the reminder, lest temptation sway you."

"Bugger that, you're just trying to show off."

"Possibly."

"Too bad you're wrong."

"Am I?"

"Of course."

"Hmmm. Doubt it."

He pulled her phone from his pocket and held it out to her.

"I thought it best I not say anything in front of anyone else. I knew you'd come back for your phone."

"You swiped my phone?"

"Yes."

"You insulted everyone all night, but you considered this should be kept private?"

"Was I wrong?"

"No. No, you are right about that."

"Good. I trust you'll make a good decision, Sergeant Parker."

He walked away, but Valerie stood there staring at him.

"You care about him," she said, "don't you?"

"Care about whom?"

"Lestrade."

"Don't be ridiculous."

"You consider him a friend."

"I don't have friends."

"Right... Well, thanks for being discreet. Especially since you're wrong."

"Right."


	3. Chapter 3

Parker stood behind Lestrade as he leaned over the body.

"No doubt now," he said. "This is a serial killer."

"Long time between murders, though."

"Yeah, but the body position is the same. I've stared at those photos so much I could recognize this in my sleep."

Despite the new murder, they still struggled to make a solid connection. Two months later, she was in his office going over the new murder and comparing it to the others.

This made five. One every year, always in January. There was still no link between the victims, and the position of the bodies were still a mystery.

Valerie found herself glancing at Lestrade's hand. Specifically his left hand. He had removed his wedding ring after Christmas. The divorce was hard on him, but he seemed calmer. He and his wife both agreed to make it quick. There were no drunken nights with a hangover the next morning, at least. He finally realised their marriage failed because of his wife, not because of him. He tried. She didn't.

"Look at this," he said.

He slid a photo of each victim in front of her.

"Each one has an arm stretched straight out," he said, "and their head is turned to look that way."

"Right?"

""What does it look like they're doing to you?"

Valerie looked carefully at each photo. She shook her head.

"No, look at it. What are they doing?"

She stood and looked down at the photos, and it hit her.

"They're pointing."

"They're pointing," he said.

"To what?"

"That's a good question. I'm thinking they're all pointing in a specific direction." He pulled out a map and walked next to Valerie. "Look at where each victim was found." He circled the fives places. "Almost like a big circle, right?"

Valerie took his pen and grabbed a folder to use the straight edge.

"Where the carriage victim was found, the way the train was headed, the body would have been pointing this way."

She drew a line on the map, and Lestrade nodded. They scrutinised each photo until five lines were drawn. They all intersected at one point.

"Get a search warrant," Lestrade said.

"Yes, sir."

The next day, Valerie, Lestrade, and a team of men were at the location from the map; an abandoned warehouse. Half the team went in, then Lestrade and Valerie, with the rest of the team behind them. Inside, Valerie and Lestrade split off from the people in front of them, and she took the lead as Lestrade gave orders to those behind. She rounded a corner and a shot rang out. The sight of a man with blonde hair barely registered as the pain hit her and she stumbled back into Lestrade's arms.

"Shit! I need help here! Go get the bastard!"

Men ran past as Lestrade lowered her to the ground. The pain rolled through her like fire, and she cried out.

"I got you, I got you."

Lestrade looked at her stomach.

"Oh, shit." He yelled into his mobile for an ambulance.

"Greg..."

"You're okay, Parker. You'll be fine."

"Greg... something I need... to tell you."

"Save your strength. Tell me later."

"No later." Tears slipped from her eyes as she fought to keep them open.

He held her face in his hands. "No, don't say that. Ambulance is coming."

"Greg... I love you... Always have."

He stared into her eyes, frozen.

"Sorry to... tell you... like... this."

"No, shh shh. It's okay, Valerie."

The sensation of Greg's hand on her cheek faded as the darkness surrounded her. Greg called her name from further and further away, until there was silence.

She woke to beeping. Sound registered before anything else. All quiet, except for the beeping. She tried to open her eyes, but they were too heavy. She tested her voice with a grunt, then a whimper.

"Valerie?"

That was Greg's voice. She struggled against heavy lids and managed to get her eyes open a bit.

"Oh, thank God." He took her hand. "Can you hear me?"

She nodded, and Greg let out a hard breath.

"I'll call for the doctor. Are you in pain?"

She nodded.

"I'll tell him."

He squeezed her hand, then left the room. The doctor came back alone and checked her. She had been asleep for nearly twenty-four hours. Greg hadn't left her side.

He came back in when the doctor left. He helped her sit up and sip some water, then he walked to the front of her bed.

"I called your parents. They're on their way in."

"Thanks."

"Are we gonna talk about it?"

"Talk about what, sir?"

"I think we've moved well beyond 'sir', don't you? I mean, you did tell me you love me, and then leave me to deal with that. Now that you're not dead you don't wanna talk about it?"

"I didn't mean to upset you when I told you that."

"Oh, but I am upset. I'm upset that it took you thinking you were dying to admit that you have feelings for me. I'm upset that it took sitting by your bedside for me to realise that it is quite possible that I have feelings for you, too." Greg ran a hand through his hair, then clutched the footboard of her bed. "Why did you never say anything?"

"You were married."

"I got divorced."

"You're my superior. I thought it might not be the best idea."

Greg rubbed his jaw. "So, what do we do?"

"We forget it."

"Forget it?"

"It's the best thing to do, sir."

"You think I can forget that you told me you love me?"

"Yes, I do."

"Or that I feel anything for you?"

"I do... because you don't."

"Do those bloody pain killers have you potty?"

"You don't. Not really. It took you sitting at my bedside, after what looked like my dying confession, for you to realise that it's 'possible' that you have feelings for me. That's not love. That's guilt."

"Guilt?"

"That you never realised. That you didn't get to respond. That I nearly died in your arms, shot while you had my back."

"So, you're Sherlock Holmes now? Making your little deductions?"

"No. Five years of being your partner and caring about you... I know you. The fact that you can't understand that just proves you don't really have feelings beyond a partner for me."

Greg ran both hands through his hair with a groan, then grabbed his coat from the chair.

"Sod this."

He slammed the door when he left, and Valerie flinched. He was back less than a minute later, calmer.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I shouldn't have- I think we need to wait to discuss this. It's too soon. I'm just... glad you're alive."

Valerie smiled.

"I'll check on you tomorrow."


	4. Chapter 4

From the moment her parents arrived, Valerie's mother was hovering. She fluffed Valerie's pillows, asked if she needed help anytime she moved, asked if she needed anything at all.

That was the best part. After two days, the old argument started.

"This is why, Valerie. This is why I didn't want you to be a copper."

"She's fine, darling," her dad said calmly.

"Fine! You call this fine? Your daughter is lying near dead in a hospital bed and she's fine?"

"I am fine, mum."

"Oh, bollocks!"

"Mother! Language."

There was a knock at the door, and Lestrade's head popped in.

"Am I interrupting?"

"No," Valerie said, "not at all. Come in."

He shook her father's hand and introduced himself.

"You're the one who got my daughter shot," her mother said.

"Mother! He did no such thing."

"Dear, you're getting her worked up," her dad said.

"Maybe I should go," Lestrade said to Valerie.

"Absolutely not."

"My baby almost died. Am I not allowed to be upset?"

"Mum-"

"My youngest child, shot."

"Mum, please. What brings you by, sir?"

Lestrade cringed at her use of 'sir', but let it go.

"The hospital called to tell me you're being released."

"I am. Just waiting on some paperwork."

"I wasn't sure if you had a ride, and I didn't want you to have to take a cab."

"Do I get a police escort?" She smiled.

Lestrade shoved his hands in his pockets. "Not just an escort, Miss, but your very own driver."

"Well," her dad said, "that's nice of the young man, isn't it?"

Lestrade laughed. "Don't think I've been called a young man in years. Especially since the gray started creeping in."

"Well, I'm the youngest of four," Valerie said. "Born ten years after the third, so a bit late for my parents. Dad's got a few years on you."

"Understood. Saved the best for last, did you?"

Her dad laughed, and despite her anger her mother smiled.

"Goodness." Valerie covered her face with both hands.

"She's certainly the best partner I ever had. She did me a good turn once to get me back on my feet. It's my turn to help her."

""Well, no need for that, Detective. Her father and I are here for that."

"Darling, we can only stay for one more night. She's getting better. Doctor said so. She doesn't need you hovering about."

"The doctor also said she should rest."

"And I will, Mum. I promise."

She stared at Valerie, then walked to Lestrade.

"I suppose I owe you an apology. I know it isn't your fault she was shot. You just can't imagine the fear, hearing that your child..."

"No, I can't imagine. And I promise to take better care of her on the job, ma'am."

She sniffled, and patted Lestrade's cheek. "You're a good one."

Lestrade smiled. "Well, I'll let you get things together, and I'll go get the car."

At Valerie's flat, Lestrade helped her inside, letting her lean on him. Her dad smiled.

"See, he can help her better than we can," her dad said to her mum.

"I suppose, but I'm still staying the night."

"Of course."

Lestrade got her settled into bed while her parents did things in the kitchen and sitting room. He brushed her hair from her face as she lay back with a groan.

"What can I get you?"

"Nothing, sir."

"Greg. We talked about this. We're off duty."

She nodded. "Thank you for helping today."

"My pleasure." He wiped a hand over his face. "Since your parents are here, I'll get going. But I'll be back tomorrow."

"Thank you."

"You rest."

"I will."

Lestrade turned to leave.

"Greg?"

"Yeah?"

"Did we get him? The killer?"

"Bastard's dead. No more worries from him."

Valerie sighed and sank into her pillows.

The next day, Lestrade arrived as Valerie's parents were leaving. He found her lying on the couch inside.

"Tired of the bed?"

"I had a little trouble getting in and out. It's easier here."

"Well, I'm here now, so if you want to be in your bed just let me know. I'll carry you in and out of it if I have to," he said with a grin.

Valerie smiled. Lestrade sat on the couch and gently pulled her legs across his lap.

"How's work?" she said.

"Fine. You're a hero, you know?"

"Me? Why?"

"Shot chasing a serial killer after you were the one who put it all together?"

"But I didn't. We did it together."

"That's not what I'm telling people."

"Why would you do that? This was big. You deserve the credit."

"I don't want it. I got what I want. You're alive."

She wiped a tear from her eye and reached for his hand. He held it tight.

"Can we talk about this now?"

Valerie shook her head. "Not a good idea."

"All right. I'll wait."

"No, I meant... us. It's not a good idea."

"I don't know about that. You thought it was good enough to tell me you love me."

"I thought it was my last chance."

"So, if you hadn't been shot, you never would have told me?"

"Probably not."

"Am I that damaged?"

"No... Greg, there's nothing about you that puts me off. Believe me."

He smiled. "Well, at least we're past 'sir', eh?"

"It's just too complicated."

"Complicated." He took a deep breath. "The day you made sergeant was the day I met you, right?"

She nodded.

"You were too damn perky, and you would _not shut up_ about whatever case we were on, but you were good. You were professional. You did the job and you did it right, and you eventually caught on that silence can be a good thing."

She chuckled. "I was trying to make a good impression."

"You did. Too good. Because you were also sweet... and beautiful. I found myself watching you when I shouldn't. Nipped it then and there, because I was married, and unlike my cheating ex-wife I'm faithful. So, yes, it's bloody complicated. Especially when you consider the twenty year age gap."

"Nineteen."

Lestrade smiled. "See, you can't tell me you're not interested. Not now."

He stared at her lips as he leaned toward her, and a memory of his drunken kiss flashed through Valerie's mind. His lips just brushed over hers and she gently pushed at his chest.

"We're just making it harder to go back to the way we were."

"I don't want to go back."

"I do."

He brushed his nose alongside hers before he pulled away, sending shivers through her.

"I guess you're going, eh?"

"Why would I leave? I'm taking care of you. Did you eat lunch?"

"Not yet."

"Hungry?"

"A little."

"Leave it to me."

He smiled at her, his eyes settling on her lips for just a moment before he got up to take care of lunch. Valerie wondered then if they really could go back.


End file.
